After Closing
by CryptJo
Summary: Cloud and Rufus share a lock-in at Seventh Heaven


Pouring himself a glass of whiskey, Cloud glanced across the bar at the man opposite. Unusual as it was to see Rufus ShinRa setting foot in Seventh Heaven let alone staying until after closing time, it was even stranger for him to be talking to Cloud as if they were friends. They weren't; they were barely even allies yet there was Rufus, smiling as if they'd never been anything but comrades. It unnerved Cloud and drove him to drain the glass he held in one swift move.

"What do you want?"

"Want?" Rufus replied, a feral smile playing on his lips. "What makes you think I want anything, Cloud?"

"You're here, for a start." Cloud gestured around the bar and looked back to Rufus. "And you're talking to me. That usually spells trouble or have you forgotten our previous encounters?"

With a fluid grace, Rufus swiped the bottle of liquor from the top of the bar, refilled Cloud's glass and then, his own, that feral smile never once leaving his face.

"There comes a time, Cloud, in ever man's life when he realises it is time to let the past go. Would you not agree?"

Shifting uncomfortably, Cloud tried to ignore the thoughts associated with Rufus' question; he had struggled all too often with his past and understood the meaning behind Rufus' words. He would not admit to it though, not to this man. He gave a non-committal snort and turned his attention to his drink, waiting for whatever Rufus would say next.

"I will take your silence as agreement," Rufus said, a purr to his voice. "Very well, I'll give you the facts; I want you."

Cloud choked on his drink, the vapours from the straight alcohol shooting up his nose and making his eyes water.

"You what?"

"I want you. You're attractive, I'm attractive and you have to admit, the idea of pinning me down and fucking me senseless should appeal even to you. Getting one over on the enemy?"

With a shake of his head, Cloud attempted to clear his vision and his mind. Rufus hadn't drunk that much and his smile seemed – while perhaps not entirely comforting – sincere at least. Indulging himself for just a moment, Cloud pictured the scene. Rufus bent over his barstool, dishevelled, hair unruly, cheeks reddened and cursing like Barret with a losing hand on poker night. Cloud had to admit, the idea had its merits. Glancing at the bottle, Cloud made his decision.

"Ask me again when the booze reaches the bottom of the label."

"Of course. Another?"

Long before the liquid level had reached even the middle of the label, Rufus was on Cloud's lap in one of the booths usually inhabited by old men playing dominoes, hands tangled in Cloud's spikes and tongue down his throat. Both pairs of hands wandered, exploring unfamiliar bodies and seeking out the pleasure spots that made the other gasp and moan in pleasure. It was Cloud who made the move to start undressing Rufus. Suddenly impatient he quickly divested Rufus of his dress jacket and waistcoat, moving to unbutton his shirt, running his mouth over newly-bared skin.

"I won't break, Cloud." Rufus assured him, making his own move to strip Cloud bare. "Nor will I admonish you for ripping my shirt; I have plenty more at home."

With a soft chuckle, Cloud tested Rufus' words and hooked his finger into the front of the man's shirt, swiping it down and popped off the remaining buttons, sending the flying and skittering across the barroom floor. Pants quickly followed, all but shredded in Cloud's haste. Once Cloud's mind was made up, he saw no reason to waste time. Without awaiting further encouragement, he pushed Rufus off his lap and onto the table, face down, ass up.

"Yes, that's it. Show me what you're made of, Cloud." Rufus goaded, spurring Cloud into action. A spit-slicked finger slid into the man, Cloud working it around his entrance before pushing in another. It was fast, it was hurried and it was in no way gentle, but there was no sound of protest from Rufus. Only pleading moans fell from the man's lips as Cloud stretched him just wide enough to not damage him when he pushed in.

"Shit, you're tight!"

"You're my first."

"You're lying."

"I'm Rufus ShinRa, Cloud. I don't bottom for anyone, except you."

Coming from someone like Rufus, Cloud mused, that was almost a declaration of love and Cloud responded with a declaration of his own.

"Stop talking, unless you're begging me to fuck you harder."

"Yes, _sir_."

Tightening his fingers on Rufus' hips, Cloud pounded into the man over and over, whimpering softly and cursing every so often. Rufus had been right; there was something appealing about mastering an enemy in this way. It had been too long since Cloud last indulged himself in this manner and he had almost forgotten the gratification that could be obtained by senseless, meaningless fucking.

"Harder, Cloud. Harder!"

Taking Rufus at his word, Cloud slammed his hips forwards, thrusting hard. A keening wail caught his attention and it took him a few moments to realise it came from his own throat. He was nearing his peak, all too soon. Roughly sliding his hand between Rufus' body and the tabletop, Cloud took hold of the man's cock, jerking it hard and fast, determined that he would not be the first to come. His efforts were rewarded when, after only a few strokes, Rufus swore loudly and emptied himself onto the stained and scratched wooden surface. Cloud followed swiftly, an intense and much needed orgasm tearing through his body as he emptied himself with an animalistic grunt of pleasure.

Cloud took great pains to clean away the evidence of his misconduct, fearing the reprisals should Tifa find out, as Rufus tucked himself back into his clothes as best he could.

"How would you feel about making this a regular occurrence, Cloud?"

"Buy me a whiskey and we'll see."

The end.


End file.
